No Shame
by Bananafish II
Summary: In the midst of the Pokemon League Tournament, Red wants to check on a challenger and his pokemon after a vicious battle, but is that really such a good idea?


**I own no video game companies. At all. **

**This is a oneshot for now, but I think I'll see where it goes, so tell me what you think. This fic was partially inspired by "a place to rest your head" by Phantom Thief Oryx. It's awesome. You should totally check it out. **

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**No Shame**

Red didn't bother knocking as he opened the office door. He disturbed the others only when it was necessary, and this interruption, he knew, was very necessary. This area of the Pokemon League was like a maze, and the League's self-appointed secretary positioned herself in its deepest reaches.

She was waiting behind a black matte desk as though she had been expecting him. In the harsh fluorescent light her dress could have been a mere extension of the desk, her glasses were perfectly balanced, not a strand of hair was out of place, and her expression was blank. This was her usual state whenever someone entered her office. If there was a person for whom the phrase "married to your job" was created, that person was probably Lorelei.

The pinstriped wallpaper was a disconcerting shade of off-white, while the carpet was as black as the desk. There were no personal artifacts on the desk. Those rested atop a filing cabinet behind her chair: a pocket-sized plush lapras, a framed photograph of a cottage with a waterfall behind it, and a group photo of the current League members.

A pair of wire baskets framed the desk like scales. One, labeled IN, was empty. The other, labeled OUT, came halfway up to her shoulder: a complete record of League challengers that day, many of who didn't make it past Victory Road. Lorelei was positioned between them.

Only her lips moved. "Yes, Sir?"

At twelve years old, he still found it odd for people to address him as "Sir" but he hardly noticed it now. "There's been an accident," said Red, gulping. "I need to fill out a form."

Her voice was flat and professional. "Severity?"

"Umm..." His charizard had finished off the challenger's last pokemon, another charizard, with a seismic toss that cracked its vertebrae all along its spine. Though the impact left its body broken, the pokemon was still conscious, spreading its useless wings wide and flailing about. He'd ordered his own charizard to stand down when the weaker one began to struggled towards it, coughing flames and hissing savagely until the kid recalled it and forfeited. His expression was burned into Red's memory. At the moment, he felt as bad as the kid looked. "Bad," he said. "Very bad."

Lorelei nodded. "The challenger's name?"

"Ah. Ethan - Ethan Gold."

She turned to the pile and plucked a form near the bottom: Ethan's record.

She produced a pen and a second form from the cabinets. Red's mind raced as he filled it out. He hunched over the desk, the pen shaking in his hands.

It was only a record, Lance had explained to him, but it was necessary. Whenever a pokemon suffered a wound that could not be healed by potions alone or soothed by simply withdrawing it, a form was filed. Though the charizard would hopefully make a full recovery, there were some things that even pokecenters couldn't fix. In that case, a form and video record of the battle would be on file in every pokecenter in the region and the pokemon would be eligible for League-funded surgery and physical therapy. On the other end of the spectrum, a pokemon that caused too many potentially fatal injuries would eventually be banned from all official tournaments within the country.

He slammed the pen down, making the room ring. The woman's left eyebrow twitched.

"Now what?" There were no windows or air conditioning. Usually, she kept her office uncomfortably cool, but now he was sweating beneath his jacket.

"You're done," she said simply, paper-clipping the two forms together and filing them away.

"I'm done?"

"Yes, Sir. You are done."

"There's nothing else that I need to do?" he asked. "No more forms? No apologies?"

"Apology letters are a brilliant suggestion, but not mandatory. Perhaps you could work on improving your charizard's finesse after it has rested, too, but no: there is nothing else you need to do." There was an air of finality in her voice.

Taking a moment to calm himself, he nodded. "In that case, I think I'll go visit them then. Thanks, Lorelei." He began to stride briskly out of the room when something snagged his jacket.

"Wait!" He turned and stared. His sleeve was firmly in her grip. She looked up at him, biting her lip. In the glare, her glasses were sheets of ice. For a moment they froze in place.

He didn't know what to say. His impression of her was someone who liked to keep people at arms distance both physically and emotionally. If going to visit Ethan was enough to warrant a response like this, he felt that he should hear her out.

Jerkily, she released his grip, slid back to her chair (her face as white as Ethan's), and coughed into her fist. She kept her eyes locked on a corner of her desk. "Forgive me, Sir, but I strongly recommend that you not do that."

"Not do what?" Surely checking on him and his team wasn't a problem, Red thought. As the champion, he assumed it was something that went without saying. He'd made it a point to do the same whenever he beat someone on his travels, and dozens of trainers had done the same for him when he'd lost. He felt like he should be responsible for making sure his opponents were all right.

"Against visiting him. What you do for one challenger you must do for all challengers." She straightened her posture and adjusted her glasses, her composure restored. "As we both know, the Pokemon League Tournament is a high-intensity event that lasts for one month out of the year. In it, challengers encounter an intensity far beyond the normal scope of the Gym Challenge required to enter and, as such, should be prepared for the possibility that their pokemon may experience pain beyond their normal limits. If you visit everyone you fight in the sickbay, you'll wear yourself out."

He glanced at the OUT stack. "Why do you work so much then? Won't you wear yourself out, too?"

The corners of her lips turned upward. It wasn't quite a smile. "Will offered to take my position until the tournament was over, but I declined. I do this by choice. As the first member that challengers face and the one among us who sees, by far, the most battles in the tournament, I find that it is in my best interests to preview the competition. And some of them are absolutely fascinating..."

She steepled her hands and continued. "Ideally, challengers should be trainers who, though they have developed a strong bond with their pokemon, are also responsible and emotionally stable. The recommended timeline is at least two years of traveling with one's team during which the challenger is expected to complete the Gym Challenge and become increasingly competent as a human being as well as a trainer." She tilted her hands toward him and nodded. "You, yourself, fall into this category."

Red narrowed his eyes. He didn't like where the conversation was headed. "But you're saying Ethan isn't like that?"

"Yes and no, Sir. I believe that Ethan showed commendable compassion and resourcefulness during our match, although there was one incident when his jolteon was frozen."

That earned Red's full attention. "What happened?"

"He tried to break it out himself."

He crossed his arms and smiled boldly. "Sounds like something I'd do."

"_You_ are not nearly so rash, Sir." He could almost hear an edge in her voice. "Looking at his record, the challenger barely completed the Gym Challenge in time to qualify for the tournament."

"So?"

"This is his first year with a trainer's license. Though he appears to care deeply for his pokemon, which _is_ an admirable quality in a trainer, I admit, I also believe that _it is not enough_. He cannot have matured enough in that amount of time. His pokemon must surely possess monstrous amounts of power in order to complete the Gym Challenge in such a short period of time, but _he does not have discipline._ He cares too much and has too little control, and that makes him dangerous."

He tilted his head curiously. "How so?"

"The bond that drove him into the arena for his pokemon will surely cause him to make other snap judgments. He is obviously a very emotional person and, as I stated earlier, we are currently participating in a highly emotional event in which you are responsible for severely injuring one of his pokemon. His charizard is being treated at the moment, but what of the rest of his team? Are you willing to defend yourself in the middle of a pokecenter crowded with other participants? Are you willing to risk provoking him?" Her voice rose gradually as she spoke until she was almost shouting. Red was silent.

Pausing, she exhaled deeply. "Stay. Please. Blue Oak did the same at the beginning of the tournament, as did the champion before him. Surely the Gym Leaders you've faced weren't there to meet challengers one-hundred percent of the time, and this sort of chivalry is rare among everyday trainers, no? Remember: you are the champion. You have responsibilities now. There is no shame in absence, Red. There is no shame in being cold when others have been cold to you. Think of your travels."

"My travels?" She would say that he had traveled alone, he thought, but he was never truly alone. Everywhere he went, he could always place a moment with a friend: a pokeball hanging from his belt or a soft body perched on his shoulder, sometimes another trainer headed in the same direction, someone to talk with. Blue always told him he took things too slow, but Red had always been one step behind him. Besides, helping people was worth the wait: a shaking boy hiding from the Rockets on Nugget Bridge, a kindly old man held hostage in the Pokemon Tower, all the people crouching in their offices during the battle for Silph Co., he not only fought for them: he also helped them up.

Tightening his resolve, he straightened. "Sorry, Lorelei," he smiled sadly, "But this _is_ my responsibility."


End file.
